Strawberry Wine
by PaperFrames
Summary: /It's the summer of 1984 and 16 year-old Olivia Benson is spending it on the Jersey coast with her mother. Her hair is long, her shorts short, and her thoughts yet to be tainted by a dark world. She has all the reason in the world to smile; she's young, beautiful, & intelligent. But not all is as rosy as it seems. / Teen trope. Summer love. EO pairing. Semi canon compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Okay, if you read this earlier you read a completely different story essentially and I'm sorry! I mean the plot is still the same, I just changed the tense usage and a few minor details. I was so excited to publish this last night and when I re-read it earlier, I hated it. So essentially, this chapter has been re-written. **

This is an AU Bensler Teen Romance – something I told myself I'd never write, but this plot bunny popped into my head and now it won't leave. This story is set in July of 1984, so there will be lots of 80s references. Now, I'm a 90s child, so if I got a reference wrong, please let me know! Google only goes so far.

I have two other stories under SVU that I need to update, and so naturally I chose to start a new one, just note that if you're following those two-shots (one EO & Bensidy), I haven't forgotten them! I'm also working on a new AO piece, too.

So for this fic, these are how the ages are going to break down: Elliot is 18, he was born in 66; Kathy is also 18, she was born the same year, and Olivia is 16; she was born in 68. Baby Maureen is one; yes Kathy and Elliot are her parents – no they are no married. Kathy will factor into the story, however. Also, I only gave Elliot two siblings instead of the canon 7 since the show never really mentioned anyone aside from a brother.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, as per usual.

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Chap 1: A Summer Getaway

Legs crossed at the knee and a look of frustration painted across her countenance, Olivia Benson fidgets in the passenger's seat of her mother's 83' BMW E30. All of her attempts at comfort have been fraught for not; no matter how many times she yanks on the hem of her acid wash cutoffs, the material doesn't straighten; instead it heads north, leaving the young brunette in even more discomfort than before.

The two-hour ride from Manhattan to New Jersey had seemed much more exciting under the pretense she'd be able to covet the prestigious position of driver. Not to mention the pretext that her mother wouldn't send her back to the 1700s with her choice in music to fill the silence. It'd been 93 minutes of endless concertos and symphonies; the music of Bach and Beethoven drowning out any attempts Olivia made to be intimate with her own thoughts.

One thought in particular that seemed to be streaming through her head is why Serena Benson insisted that Bach and Beethoven kept her calm whilst driving. The shrill screech of the string instruments and the intruding clangs of the percussion sections caused a feeling of anxiety to seep into Olivia. She much preferred the soft crooning of Janis Joplin calling for the good ole' summer time, or Jimi Hendrix excusing himself to kiss the sky; all music Olivia knew that her mother owned. It was true, Serena Benson owned an extensive 60s rock and roll collection.

But Olivia took what she could get. If old dead guys in bad wigs kept her mom calm whilst driving, then she could deal. Olivia knew the other manner in which her mother kept calm; it came in bottles of all different shapes, colours, and sizes and left a demon in its wake.

"I thought I was going to get a chance to drive?" Olivia questions, struggling to be heard over the wave of instruments seeping from the radio. Haplessly she tugs at the hem of her shorts once more; again to no avail.

"And I thought I told you to wear clothes?" Her mother counters, her blue eyes flitting to Olivia's bare, bronze legs.

"They are clothes; it's 96 degrees, Mom. What do you want me to wear, a nun's habit?"

"You know that's not what I mean, Olivia, but you have to be careful with what you wear. You're a very beautiful girl, with a woman's body, and you live in a world full of wolves. You don't want to attract the wrong attention, do you?"

A sullen look passes across the young brunette's face as she nodds knowingly; the unsaid hangs between the mother and daughter pair as Serena Benson hits her right turn signal and exits the interstate.

/

Twenty minutes later Olivia Benson is in the driver's seat, and she smiles brightly as she slips a tape into the tape deck of her mother's car. She's only had her driver's license for two months, and living in Manhattan afforded her little to no time to practice.

"Eyes on the road, Olivia; the radio isn't going anywhere – not to mention we're only a few miles away from the house." Serena's voice warns.

Only half listening to her mother's words, Olivia nods, and then hits play. The sound of Prince cooing about a little red corvette filters through the air.

"Why you children insist on listening to this man scream and moan his way through a song, I'll never know," with a slight grin, Serena jests and Olivia notices that a smile is tugging at her mother's mouth. The young girl warms at the sight, happy that the mood between them is light and teasing. It was a nice contrast against the constant digs and criticism that the two usually exchange like currency. Someone was always on edge at the Benson home; rarely did they approach each other with anything other than wariness, defenses always at the ready.

"Take a left at the next light, and its straight down from there."

Laughter, uninhibited laughter flits from Olivia's lips as she considers her mother's words in regards to one of her favourite musical artist. "Oh right because Prince's screeching is any different from Janis Joplin's wailing?" She counters, with an eyebrow raised above her aviator specs as she follows her mother's directions.

She'll never tell her mother, but she lives for moments like this: Moments where they're mother and daughter and not forced fate and cold concrete, an unsolicited gift and a horrid circumstance. Olivia takes what she can get because she wants a mother - her mother, but rarely gets to have her.

"This town better have a cinema, too. We're going to be here for three weeks and I'd rather not miss Purple Rain – Abbie will never let me live it down."

"You mean that brunette with the southern accent you hang around with?" Serena inquires and Olivia nods, her dark brown locks falling from the clip that pins the strands to her head and off her neck.

"That'd be her. We were supposed to go together until you told me we'd be spending your vacation here." Olivia responds as she signals her left blinker and turns, heading down a paved path that leads to a row of houses. As she does so, she hums along with the song for a moment before breaking out in full voice at her favourite part.

"_A body like yours oughta be in jail/ 'Cause it's on the verge of bein' obscene/ Move over,/ baby, gimme the keys/ I'm gonna try to tame your little red love machine_ . . ."

"You'll never make it on broad way with that voice. Now, our house is two to the left, that driveway there," The teasing continues as Serena points to one of the smaller houses that stands about twenty feet from it's nearest neighbor.

Olivia's brown eyes follow her mother's pointing finger to a driveway, located to the left of a baby blue house – the house she'd be spending the next three weeks calling home. She pulls into the driveway and cuts the ignition.

Taking her hair from clip she brushes it out with her fingers before pinning it back in place, and adjusting her too big sunglasses over the bridge of her nose. With a yawn she stretches in her chair, her long legs hit the gas and break pedals and she proudly declares "Here!" Although she'd only driven the last seven miles, pride courses through her veins; she's a driver now (if a seven mile drive could really constitute her as being one).

Serena's brows furrow together as she sticks a manicured hand inside her oversized black back and she digs around for the keys. "Let me "Let me just find the keys and we can get our stuff inside," she says and Olivia nods. "Its somewhere in here, on a silver ring." Serena mutters more so to herself, and Olivia nods again, her eyes catch a gleam of blue and she gets out of the car.

"I'm gonna go check the beach out, yell when you find them." She shouts through the opened driver's side window and stretches, yanking on her shorts and straightening her tank top as it rises up her stomach. Her flip-flops sound against the ground as she makes her way through the gate that separates the driveway from the beach.

As soon as she's through the threshold, the smell of salt water and sand fills her nostrils. The burning sun beats down against her olive skin causing her pace to slow. She feels heavy, but somewhat free and languid as she shuffles along the hot sand. Her eyes glance down to the water and she watches as the tide ebbs and flows against the edge of the weight sand. The water is bright and blue as she sunlight dances off its surface in waves, causing the ocean to shimmer like a fresh cut diamond placed under direct light. The entire scene causes Olivia's breath to still.

_It's beautiful_. She repeats to herself and for the first time possibly ever, she contemplates just how lucky of a hand fate has dealt her. For what seems like the hundredth time today, she smiles, a rare fete indeed.

She considers the prospects of spending three weeks here, in paradise; with a mother she knows little about, and thinks that maybe this won't be too bad.

A masculine voice breaks her from her reverie and she turns at the sound, shoving her slipping sunglasses against the bridge of her nose. "You must be Miss Benson."

Her brown eyes flit across the stranger's face as she scrutinizes his appearance with the eye of a detective, taking note of his large build, his formal stance, and blue eyes. His knuckles are scared and his got a bit of stubble on his chin; he's probably in his late forties to early fifties, and she can tell he's tired. Not the tired where a nap would solve everything, but the type of tired where your bones ache and mental exhaustion is a given every day. Regardless, Olivia doesn't think she knows him.

Her lips part to speak, to ask the man how he knows her, but before the first syllable falls from her tongue, Serena charges towards them, the bottom of her dark blue dress slacks covered in sand. She grabs Olivia by her wrist and places her own body between Olivia and the stranger. In her hands she's holding the keys to unlocking the house.

"Olivia." Serena states flatly, and Olivia watches as her mother's normally calm light blue eyes become dark, as if storm clouds have rolled in. Serena Benson is a lioness ready to pounce on anyone approaching her cub. "Go back to the car and get our stuff in the house."

"Mom, he - " Olivia begins, searching for a way to protest what she deems as an overreaction on her mother's end, a reaction she'd seen countless times before. Any time, in particular, that a man had the audacity to approach her within her mother's eye-line.

Once, when she'd accompanied her mother to a late night lecture, one of Serena's students had asked her for coffee afterwards. Catching sight of the exchange, Serena threated to have the boy thrown from the university if he ever approached her daughter again.

It was frustrating and embarrassing to the young woman who'd quickly gained the marker as outcast in school. Boys were afraid to approach her for fear of Serena.

The raises his arms in front of him to signal peaceful intentions, and Olivia figures that he's caught sight of Serena's defensive position and darkened eyes. "Woah, Ma'am, I meant no harm," the man grates, his Brooklyn accent thick, and Olivia smiles. She'd always been fond of Brooklyn accents and it was nice to see more New Yorkers in New Jersey.

"I'm Joseph Stabler, my wife Bernie and I are renting the house three doors down with our kids. Just wanted to introduce myself since Bernie's . . . uh, taking a nap. I know the owner of your house – Sal, he said the woman coming up had a daughter; just wanted to let her – and you know that there were other kids for her to be around. Got two boys and a girl. Elliot, Ethan, and Elizabeth."

Other children? The mere thought causes Olivia to smile. It wasn't often that she got to spend her time with other kids her age. Abbie was just about her only friend, if she didn't count her mother's many colleagues that seemed quite fond of the young girl who had a pension for quoting James Baldwin, T.S Elliot, and Sylvia Plath.

In front of her, Serena's stance slackens and Olivia can see the wheels in her mother's head turn as the older woman attempts to read the stranger as friend or foe. "I'm Serena Benson, and this is Olivia. We were just hoping to spend a quiet couple of weeks as a family."

"Mr. Benson's not joining you?" Joseph Stabler questions, and Olivia is certain that the temperature drops at least thirty degrees at the stranger's seemingly harmless question.

Olivia didn't have a father, as far as both she and Serena were concerned. Sure a man had fathered her, if you could call it that, but a father and husband implied much more than biology.

"There is no Mr. Benson." Serena snaps, and her voice signals that the topic is closed; no more questions were to be asked on the subject.

"And this is why I usually let Bernie do these things," he chuckled awkwardly, nodding in understanding. "Well, if you two change your minds, I'm right down the way. We're having a barbeque on Friday. Drinks and food, you're both more than welcome to come. You can meet my wife and she can help me remove my foot from my mouth. Don't hesitate to stop by at any time. Bernie's always looking for another woman to gab with."

There mere thought of Serena and another woman, a woman possibly not well versed in academia who quite possibly spent all day and night catering to three children, having a conversation almost made Olivia laugh. What would they discuss? Aphra Behn and broccoli? Serena Benson had the tendency to be a bit of an intellectual snob, if you asked her daughter.

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Stabler."

A smile crosses Joseph's lips and he nods at the two women. "Mrs – Ms. Benson, Olivia."

Olivia nods back and watches as he walks away, taking note of which house he finally stops at. She shakes her wrist as she feels her mother's nails dig into her flesh causing Serena to relinquish her hold. Once her mother's vice grip is gone, Olivia takes a few steps back, her mind flitting back to Mr. Stabler's children: _Elliot, Ethan, and Elizabeth_; she'd always wanted a sibling, a little brother to terrorize; a little sister to coddle.

"Here are the keys, Olivia, go get our stuff." Serena tosses the keys, and with little to no effort Olivia – and barely paying attention, Olivia catches the keys in her right hand.

She fiddles with the ring for a second, listening as the metal jostles together. Gnawing at her lip she glances down at the sand and then back up at Serena. She desperately wants to ask if they'll actually attend the barbecue, but contemplates pushing her mother's buttons. The ride had been so nice, and they'd actually enjoyed one another's company. Should she push it?

"Can we go Friday, Mom – to the barbeque, please?"

Serena's brows raise and Olivia smiles an innocent smile that, given the right conditions usually caused her mom to cave. She silently hopes that the conditions are right.

"Let's get settled first, please – then I'll decide. I'd wanted to get a jump on my lesson plans. . ."

"But we came here so that you could get away from work," protests Olivia and she lifts her glasses away from her eyes, staring at her mother.

"Just get our things inside, and I'll consider it." The young girl takes note of the tone of her mother's voice, the tone that said 'this conversation is over' and purses her lips.

She nods, and jingles the keys in hand and heads back towards the car. She pops the trunk and begins pulling out bags, as a passerby on a bike whistles at her, and then shouts "bend over again baby!"

"And put some clothes on, too, Olivia." Serena chides as she eyes the man with contempt. She reaches into the trunk, next to Olivia and Olivia watches as she grabs a brown tote. Bottles clang together as she does so, and Olivia nods again. The sound doesn't miss Olivia's ears and she takes a deep breath.

_You promised_, Olivia mentally reminds her mother, as she whispers a quiet "Okay, Mom." Serena grabs the keys from her hand and heads inside.

Three weeks. It was going to be an interesting three weeks.

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**A/N:** I usually don't do two author notes, but if you babes and babettes have any 80s songs you want to suggest to me because i'd like to incorporate one into each chapter. Whether it be for the chapter title, lyrics for inspiration, or as an actual part of the story, throw them my way!

**Loved it, hated it? Let me know! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So if you read the first chapter of this before about five o'clock today, I ask that you re-read it before you read this. I edited that chapter and changed my writing style. I re-read the piece this morning and hated it, so I had to do something. Thanks for all your favs and alerts, but if you like it/ hate it (and please provide legitimate criticism why) that much, let me know in a review, please! Reviews are inspiration, inspiration is updates!

Once again, this is an AU Teen Trope Fic set in the 80s, so there's lots of 80 references especially pop culture wise.

Also, I asked in my last A/N, but I doubt anyone saw. If anyone knows of any awesome 80s songs I can reference, please let me know! I'm just to incorporate song titles/songs and some times the lyrics themselves into each chapter. While I own a lot of 80s music, there's always opportunity to find something i've never heard before. Thanks and enjoy! I haven't updated in one day in forever.

All mistakes belong to me sadly. My beta doesn't get home until Sunday night!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Chap 2: Best Friends and Nice Surprises

_(Two Days Later)_

The sun splits the sky in half and purple bleeds into a golden yellow as the sun begins to set. Olivia sits on the front porch of the rented beach house, nail polish in hand, and mouth slightly agape as she takes in the scenery. She's never quite had the opportunity to just watch the sky before. Skyscrapers and high-rises had the habit of blocking the already limited view of the sky that her bedroom window provided her.

"It's beautiful," she whispers into the night, setting the nail polish bottle down. Peace, she's never felt this quite at peace before. She glances down at her feet, admiring her handy work – midnight blue, wiggles her toes, and then stands.

"I like midnight blue, too!" A voice comments and Olivia jumps, her brown eyes searching for its owner; the voice is too light to be her mother's, or to belong to a man.

"Did someone say something?" she calls cautiously as she eyes the bushes in front of the porch.

"I said I like midnight blue, too!" A blonde girl with bright blue eyes, who Olivia pegs as no more than 12 years old, pops up from the side of the porch. Her smile stretches from ear to ear and Olivia smiles back. "It looks really pretty on you. You're really pretty, too. Your hair's so long. Are you Olivia?"

Her brows furrow together and confusion spreads across her face as she studies the young girl. It hits her then, Mr. Stabler, Friday – the barbecue she'd almost forgotten about.

"I am, and you must be . . ." she pauses for a second and searches the recesses of her mind. _Elliot, Ethan_, and . . . "Elizabeth!" Olivia announces and the little girl jumps up and down in glee. Before Olivia can say any more, the girl is climbing the stairs and marching over to her.

"Elliot calls me Lizzie, but I'm 11 – Lizzie is for little girls. You can call me Liz." The little girl's enthusiasm doesn't miss Olivia; she just simply nods and listens, a smile claiming her countenance as she determines that Elizabeth is adorable personified.

She also begins to wonder why Lizzie – Liz is on her front porch, alone, as the sun is setting. Unless she had notified her mother in advance, Olivia rarely ever just went somewhere without anyone noticing. Unless, Olivia considers, Elizabeth was sent by her father to wrangle in the two Bensons.

The wind stirs and Olivia's hair falls into her face; the sun's inching lower and lower under the horizon. She turns back to look behind her, glancing through the bay windows and into the house she sees Serena sitting on the couch, book in front of her, pen hanging from her lips, unaware of the scene in front of her, and then Olivia turns back to the little girl in front of her. "So, _Liz _what brings you to my door?"

"Well, Daddy said that Ms. Benson had a daughter, and I wanted to meet her; ask her to be my best friend and come to the barbecue!"

Endearing, Olivia thinks in regards to the young girl's offer of friendship. She's never been anybody's best friend, really. She's never let anyone really get that close to her before. Best friend's usually wanted to share secrets and some secrets Olivia just didn't feel like sharing. But she didn't really have to share with a child, so she gives in, playing the part.

"Me? Be _your_ best friend?" Olivia feigns shock, pretending to wipe tears from her eyes as she does so. "I'm honoured, Liz, and I'd love to be!"

Olivia doesn't expect the young girl's next actions and almost laughs as she feels tiny arms wrap around her legs, and a chin digs into her thigh.

"Great!" Liz responds, her grin Cheshire like. "I've never had a best friend before. There's Jessica, but she's mean to me some times. Promise you won't be mean to mean, Livvie?"

Slipping her hand through the young girl's blonde strands, and smiling, Olivia nods. "I've never had a best friend either, Liz. But you've got a deal. I promise I won't be mean to you."

"Or call me a cry baby?"

"Or call you a cry baby."

"You've gotta keep your promise, too, even after you meet my brothers. Dad says they're idiots. Ethan kind of is, but El's my protector. Well he was until he took Kathy away from me. She was really nice and she painted my nails. But she liked to leave with Elliot a lot."

She stands there and takes it all in, listening as Liz tells her all about her brothers, their likes and dislikes, along with her favourite songs and shows. The young girl chatters on and in roughly twenty minutes Olivia learns a lot. She learns that the young girl whose arms are still wrapped around her waist, likes to sing Cyndi Lauper's _Girl's Just Want to Have Fun_ and dress up in her mother's clothes. She also likes to bake and wants to make all the cupcakes in the world.

Olivia's so wrapped up in the little girl's ability to converse that she barely notices as an older blonde woman shuffles across the sand, calling out for an Elizabeth. It isn't until the girl let's go of her vice grip on Olivia that she takes note of the voice.

"I'm over here with Livvie, Mom! She's my new best friend. I was just trying to make her come to the barbecue but she says her mommy wouldn't want to!" Liz shouts and Olivia turns her head towards her house as she hears her name echo from inside. Serena Benson then emerges, the screen door banging shut as she comes to stand next to Olivia, a copy of Anne Sexton's 'Transformations' in hand.

"Whose child is this, Olivia?" Serena asks, but before Liv can answer the woman, whom Olivia can guess is Liz's mother climbs the porch stairs and grabs Elizabeth's hand.

"I'm so sorry about her, she's our little explorer and some times she goes off alone. I hope she wasn't too much of a bother."

"Not at all." Olivia responds, and she takes note of the woman's appearance. Her blonde hair is chin length, she's dressed in a flowing paisley skirt and white tank top, an orange scarf is tied around her neck, and her eyes are the colour of slate.

"Livvie is my best friend and her toes are midnight blue and she says that she won't be like Kathy!" Liz tells her mother; she shakes loose of the woman's hold and grabs Olivia's left hand and wraps her own around it. The move makes Olivia's heart melt.

"I'm sorry, what's going on?" Serena asks and Olivia can hear a hint of annoyance interlaced with confusion in her tone.

A chuckle leaves the woman's lips and she smiles. Olivia notices how her smile doesn't quite reach all the way to her eyes. "'I'm Bernadette – Bernie. You met my husband Joe the other day. He invited you both to our barbecue. Apparently when you didn't show he sent our recruiter here – Lizzie, to bother you."

"Ah, the man that approached my daughter?"

"That's him; he's an ass, not a sicko, though Ms. Benson, he didn't mean anything – is that Anne Sexton you're reading?"

Olivia glances at Bernie, a look of wonder crossing her face. She'd pegged Bernie as a simple housewife two days ago, but maybe she was more – maybe she was a teacher, or even a doctor.

"Call me Serena. You know Sexton's work?" questions Serena and Olivia finds herself wanting to know the answer, too.

"Of course! She's one of my favourite reads. '_All My Pretty Ones_' is my favorite poem, well if you don't count anything by T.S Elliot."

Serena Benson is impressed, Olivia can tell by the way the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly, a quirk that would go unnoticed by anyone else. To tell the truth, Olivia is impressed, too. When did a woman with three kids have any time to herself?

"I have his whole collection with me. Sexton's too! Want to come take a look? They're annotated – I'm a professor at Columbia, and I'm working on my lesson plans, but I'd love to talk some literature. I've got wine . . ."

Olivia's lips flatten, and purse together tightly as she listens to her mom's words. She didn't want Serena drinking anything, let alone wine, but she much rather deal with her mom after a few glasses of wine than a full pint of vodka.

"I shouldn't, I should get back to the barbecue, the food's done and I've gotta make the kid's plates and –"

"Livvie can help me make my plate, Momma! Ethan and Elliot are old, they don't need your help." Liz interrupts and Liv glances at the young girl, and then up at her mother. "You stay here with Ms. Benson, and Liv can come with me. I'll tell Daddy and he'll be fine. Please, Mommy. Please Ms. Benson."

Although she's flattered at Liz's request, Olivia doesn't think Serena will bite. Moments later she's pleasantly surprised, however when Serena nods, bits of her graying dark hair slipping from its chignon as she does so.

"Just be back by 10, and take a sweater with you." Serena adds, and Olivia looks down at her attire. She's wearing calf length black leggings and a pink race back tank top. She contemplates changing complete, but opts against it as she feels Liz squeeze her hand, shaking her from her reverie.

"Come on, Livvie, I'll help you pick a sweater!" And with that she's being dragged into the house, she faintly hears Bernie agree to stay, and then she's standing in front of her suitcase as Elizabeth sorts through it.

The young blonde hands Olivia an off the shoulder plain gray sweat-shirt and barely allots her time to pull it over her head and slip on her flip-flops. Olivia can feel the eagerness radiate off of Elizabeth as Liz entangles their hands once more, and leads her out of the house, into the darkening night, and down the beach.

* * *

_**Up Next**: Olivia meets Elliot Stabler and sparks fly, but not in the way you think._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** It's 1:30 AM and my insomnia is at an all time high. I should be working on my Spanish essay, but alas, this is what I did instead. Things are slow going for the moment, so bare with me. Things will pick up soon. Promise! Also, don't expect me to always update this fast. I just had most of the first five chapters already written/sketched out. Though to be honest once I read this i'll probably rewrite it, haha.

Remember, this is full of 80s references so google if you don't know. :)

**Reviews give me motivation & inspiration too! **

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Chap 3: When Harry Met Sally

The sounds of Creedence Clearwater blast from the deck as Olivia follows behind an eager Liz; their hands clasped together still. The sun has all set and bounces off the earth in orange waves. Nervousness shakes Olivia and she can feel sand rub between her toes and stick to the bottom of her feet. She's never really been one to frequent social events. Not that many people invited her, either. Yes she was tall, tan, intelligent, and pretty, but aside from Abbie, she mostly kept to herself. She didn't like the personal questions and the nosey prodding.

"Daddy!" Liz yells, leading Olivia up the deck steps. The food is out on the table, but the inhabitants of the house seem to be missing. There's a light on in the house, but no one stirs inside. "Livvie is here!"

An awkward smile falls across Olivia's face at the sound of the nickname falling from the young girl's lips. Aside from Abbie, no one's ever given her a nickname before. Very rarely did her own mother call her anything other than Olivia.

"Dad!" Liz shouts again and the front door bangs open, a boy Olivia suspects to be around her age steps out. His hair is mussed; he's wearing stripped swimming shorts, and a muscle tank that reads 'Hollywood life.'

"Zip it squirt, Dad's on the phone with someone from the department. Said something about a girl missing."

Department, Olivia thinks, and she knows that her earlier suspicions about Mr. Stabler had been right – he's a cop, a Brooklyn cop. The idea entertainers her and she contemplates cornering Mr. Stabler later, asking him about his job and what it's like. She's yet to tell her mother, but she's considering law enforcement, maybe becoming a detective.

"Who's this?" The voice breaks through Olivia's thoughts and she looks up, grey eyes meet her brown ones and she smiles. Before she has a chance to respond Liz does.

"This is Olivia, she's my best friend. She likes midnight blue and I'm her first best friend. Mommy said that she could help me make my plate while she talks to Ms. Benson. Ms. Benson is Olivia's mommy. She's staying down the beach."

A small chuckle slips from Olivia's lips at Elizabeth's introduction and she nods. "I'm Olivia," she repeats and from beneath her eyelashes she studies him. He's kind of thin, and definitely young, but Olivia can tell he tries to play it off as if he's older. "You must be Elliot."

"Fuck no," he grates back, and Liv's brows furrow.

_Elliot, Ethan, Elizabeth _. . .

"El's off painting his nail's or something. I'm Ethan."

"Sorry. Its just - " Olivia starts as she fumbles with her words; it's an attempt to formulate an explanation as to why she's confused two people that she's never met.

"Come on, Livvie. Come see my room!" Liz pulls on her arm and Olivia just shrugs her shoulders in apology as the young girl leads her into the house.

Empty paint canvases sit on the dinning room table; atop the canvases sit a smock and a stack of brushes. There are drops of water on the wood floor giving it a warped look, and pictures line the wall. Olivia only gets a few moments to study the photos before Liz is yanking her in another direction. Her brown eyes catch sight of Mr. Stabler before she's completely pulled away, and her ears catch part of the conversation. He's telling whoever is on the other end that his wife will be back soon and not to call again.

She doesn't have to be a detective to know that he's not talking to someone from work.

/

Olivia sits cross-legged on the floor of Liz's bedroom while the young girl sits in front of her, a makeup kit in her tiny hands. She's brushing something across Olivia's cheeks and chattering away about a boy in her class that likes to pull her hair. Bonnie Raitt provides the soundtrack and from Liz's bedroom window Olivia can hear voices coming from the deck.

"Do you like boys, Livvie?" Liz asks and Olivia laughs.

"I do some times." _When my mother doesn't chase them away._

Liz shows her displeasure with a shake of the head and a scrunch of the nose, causing Olivia to laugh even more at the young girl's machinations. She considers if this is what it's always like having a little sister, not being the only child, the constant companionship and the endless questions.

"Yuck! They're gross and they touch you, and try to hold your hand or kiss you. Have you ever kissed a boy?"

Something between a sigh and a chuckle dances from Olivia's lips and she contemplates how to answer the question. Does she tell the eleven-year-old girl about the time she let a guy from her mother's freshman English course stick his tongue down her throat out of spite, almost causing her to gag at one point? Does she talk about the time that she kissed her mother's colleague because she thought that the older man had made overtures at her? Or does she tell the truth that she's never really been kissed before. Not like in the movies at least. Not like when Jake kissed Sam over her cake in _Sixteen Candles_.

"Not really," she settles on and a knock on the door causes her to jump. The door opens and Olivia turns to face the intruder.

He's tall, 6 feet at the least, with broad shoulders, and a large frame. His eyes are a bright blue, the same colour as Elizabeth's, and his dark brown hair is close cropped to his scalp. He's got a tattoo on his left bicep that peeks out from beneath his black 'Dead Head' t-shirt, and there's stubble on his chin. There's a boyish gleam in his eyes, but it's quietly masked beneath an air of responsibility. Everything about him reads 'bad boy,' though, and Olivia smiles.

_Elliot . . ._

"Lizzie, it's time to come eat." He says, Brooklyn accent thick. "Come on."

With a flourish of her baby blues, Elizabeth gets to her feet, a slight frown on her lips. Olivia just sits cross-legged, watching the exchange. She yawns slightly, wondering for a fleeting moment what time it is.

"You too," He continues with a nod in Olivia's direction. "Might want to wash your face first. Lizzie did a number on you. Bathroom's 'cross the hall."

Heat creeps into Olivia's cheeks and she wonders just how much makeup is caked to her face.

She stands quickly and heads for the bathroom, her arm brushing against his shoulder as she does. The minute touch sends a spark through her arm and she can tell that he works out; he's like a rock. "Right."

"I'm Elliot, by the way." He adds.

_Elliot, Ethan, Elizabeth. . ._

Olivia's hands grasp the doorknob to the bathroom and she looks over her shoulder almost coyly. "Olivia."

/

When she exits the house and steps foot onto the deck, Olivia sees the Stabler family gathered around the table. Mr. Stabler sits at the head and to each side sits one of the Stabler boys. Next to Elliot sits Elizabeth and a soon as the young girl sees Olivia she's yelling for her.

"Come sit next to me, Livvie!"

Olivia smiles and brushes a piece of her dark hair away from her face. The sun has disappeared below the horizon and the moon sits low in the sky. There's a chill to the air and along with a slight breeze and Olivia is thankful for her mother's insistence that she wear a sweater.

She slides down next to Elizabeth and Elliot slides an empty plate over in front of her.

"Don't be shy," Mr. Stabler pipes up, motioning to the table of food in front of her. There's potato salad, burgers, hot dogs, corn, and coleslaw. She opts for some coleslaw and a burger.

The clang of silver ware along glass intermingles with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, as the radio hums in the background. Peace. Olivia is at peace. She's sitting on the deck of a beach house that belongs to strangers, eating food she normally shies from, but oddly enough she's at peace.

"Thanks for inviting me, Mr. Stabler," her voice breaks the silence and he chuckles.

"No, thank you. I don't know what you did, but Bernie's been down there blabbing to your mom for the better part of the last hour. Nice not to have to be the one to hear it for a change."

"Because God forbid you actually listen to your wife for once." Elliot quips, a forced nonchalance in his tone, and he bites into his hamburger.

Joseph drops his fork on the table, the silverware hits against the glass with a clang, and his napkin follows.

"Is there something you need to say to me, Elliot?" Joseph implores.

Olivia watches the exchange, the exchange in silence. She can see Elliot's large frame bristle and Joseph jaw lock. It's a showdown of alpha males.

Ethan clears his throat catching sight of the brewing tension and turns his attention to their houseguest, "Olivia, right?"

She's got a mouthful of coleslaw that prevents her from responding, but she nods to confirm his question and then swallows. "Yeah. Olivia Benson."

"Livvie's my best friend!" Bits of salad fly from Elizabeth's mouth at her declaration.

"You've known her for what, an hour? She's not your best friend, she doesn't even like you." Ethan teases and Liz shakes her head in disbelief.

"You're just jealous because she doesn't like you and you like her! That's why you keep staring at her butt!"

Right then and there Olivia almost chokes on a spoonful of potato salad. Her palms hit the table with a thud as she fight to fill her lungs with air. The tension between Elliot and Joseph dissipates as they laugh at Ethan's behest.

Ethan's face turns bright red. "That's not true!" He insists.

"Uh-huh! You told El when Livvie was in the bathroom. You said that she had nice jugs and you were going to ask her to the boardwalk. But she's not your friend; she's mine and she doesn't like you!"

Crimson waves of embarrassment crawl up Olivia's cheeks and she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and then proceeds to fold her arms across her chest. Her eyes fall to the plate of food in front of her and her brows furrow together. She wonders what her mother and Mrs. Stabler are up to; she knows that they're probably discussing some complicated concrete verse of T.S Elliot's or sipping from wine glasses. She also knows that they're most definitely not discussing her anatomy.

A part of Olivia, however wonders if Elliot's had anything to say about her "jugs" and another part wonders why she should care if he did. Her mind meanders through the discussion she had earlier with Liz and the name Kathy gnaws at her persistently.

"Why don't you eat up, pipsqueak? Then you, me, and _Liv_ can take a walk down to the ocean while Ethan tries to figure out how to pull his foot out of his mouth?" Suggests Elliot; once again the Brooklyn comes out in his accent, and Liz nods dutifully.

_Liv_ . . . Olivia thinks, and she smiles to herself; she's never really been one ruminate over the way someone says her name, but she likes the way the nickname sounds as it falls from his lips. Her toffee flecked eyes cast sideways and on the other side of Liz she can see Elliot, skin bathed in the glow of the deck lights, grin teasingly at his brother.

* * *

**Up Next**: _Elliot and Olivia take a stroll along the beach. _


End file.
